Greetings from Monson, ME-- heading out today, in the rain, for the 100-mile wilderness with an absolute ton of food (I decided against doing a bucket drop, I'm carrying my full week's worth of food).
I'm excited, nervous, so many things right now that I can't put it into words. I'm going to do a major update once I finish the trail and get an actual computer to do my stuff on. Until then, peace and love to you and thank you for following my blog-- next Friday, I'll probably be an AT thru-hiker. :D
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Palm Readings/ Seeing Things
Hey guys!
I'm writing to you for my, most likely, second-to-last blog post of the trip. There's a lot I want to touch on and I think it's an excellent time to do it.
You may or may not know I'm not getting in quite as many miles as I'd like to be right now-- or that I feasibly should be. I would love to be hitting at least 18 miles a day right now for my trip-- I'd love to be pumping out miles and breaking speed just to make it to Katahdin but in reality, I don't really want my journey to end. I'm about 200 miles from the finish and after rushing so much, I have a real feeling in my heart that I'd like to take this moment to appreciate the difficulty, the ease, the overall spectrum of the trail before it's all over. I might never be cold enough to be hypothermic again in my life, I might never see the stars so clearly as I did last night (so beautiful, I could see the clouds of the milky way and more stars than I could really even imagine). There's so many things I feel like I missed out on now and it's so sad that my journey will soon be over. My last post will be in Monson, Maine before the 100-mile wilderness-- so that should be coming about a week from now.
At the Pine Ellis Lodge the other night, I enjoyed a bottle of private stock and some whisky with Silly Sobo. After getting mildly drunk, the manager of the place, David, who is a Mayan, offered to read our palms. He read mine and studied my life line and my love line and told me that I'd live a pretty long life, up to 85 years and that I'd have two wives and two children. It was also added that I wouldn't be poor but I wouldn't ever be rich
It was kind of disheartening because Silly Sobo's palm reading was so much more Kurt Cobaine: he would live a short life but he'd be rich, have many girlfriends but he'd have an alcoholism problem. It made mine feel like a life in a convent.
I have to question myself sometimes if I'm content with a simple life or if I want complication-- what is it we really want? I was told that at the end of the trail, the only way I'd finish anyways, is if I came to an answer for these questions. Maybe that's why I'm slowing down so much, the answers need to unfold gently, even with the chilly nights creeping in. I wonder often why I'm out here, why I'm doing this and what it's all about because I get so tangled up in reasons-- I need my answer or else I won't be able to finish. Also, how much trust can I take from a Mayan who charges 6$ for a shuttle?
We left Pine Ellis and encountered rain pretty early on-- Firefox and Silly Sobo and I hiked north and met a couple, Fudgie and Sancho and then later passed Baby Scrooge and another guy. We all made it in to the shelter after a very short day and took our spots in the 8-person shelter with Brightflower, lucky trout and jungle cat. Those that stayed that night were lucky as it was very windy (consistent 40mph) and rainy-- I imagine the people left out in their tents were pretty miserable (though they smoked pot the whole time, so maybe they had a great time-- I sure as hell had to waft it constantly and it grew a little tiresome). I took some Dayquil that I had purchased at the store early in the morning at a terrible price of 10$ but it wound up helping a lot-- I was able to focus on the book I had begun reading that I picked up at the hostel: "Sex, Drugs and Coco Puffs." It's a really interesting book on pop culture that explodes a bit like On The Road and reads in long sentences but it all made sense to me. It took about 70 pages and listening to everyone's conversations in the shelter before I was asleep for the night. I was quiet much of the time as I often am in groups, I like to just sit back and listen and watch and take it all in-- some call that a bad trait but I really don't mind-- it's not that I don't like people, I like to just sit and unwind to their ideas and voices.
We hiked on the next day with Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout to try to get to Rangely-- we made it to a stream and figured there would be a bridge to cross but it wound up being an unmarked ford. I tried out the water and it went up to my thighs-- it was rushing like crazy from the 3.5 inches of rain and as I got a quarter of the way across, I turned back and thought better of it. I didn't really want to wade through the water just to trip and fall and wind up miserable and cold for the rest of the day. Rangely was the main goal if nothing else-- we just wanted to get somewhere warm for the night because there was a freeze advisory. Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout took off with us up a dirt road that would hopefully have an alternative way of crossing the stream-- we hit a blue-blazed trail that took us over a bridge and right back onto the Highway we wanted to go on. It didn't take us far out of our way but we began doubting our ability to get to Rangely for the night so Sobo and I decided to motor and hit 3mph the rest of the hike for the day. It didn't work well-- the entire day was filled with deep puddles, areas of mud with broken pontoons (and the mud can be several feet deep, once Sobo fell in and went up to his calf), slick roots and oddly-angled rocks.
It was a long hike and we hit a swimming area that would have been peachy if I had only reached the spot a month earlier. Alas, with my stress fracture, it would have been impossible even if I had gone at top speed the whole time-- it's just gotten too cold to swim in such a lake. The fall foliage has really peaked after the last few frosts we've had-- the leaves went from being green a week ago to now tinges of brown, yellow and Chuck Berry red-- it made the lake setting almost ethereal.
We trudged on and on and on towards Rangely and came upon a shelter where a guy was laying inside. I recognized the voice right away-- it was Turtle Tracks who I had met in Waynesboro, Virginia-- he was flip-flopping and taking a lazy day to relax and snuggle up and get warm in his sleeping bag (rightly so, with the shelter being so close to a lake, I can't exactly blame him). He was in his normal mood of reflective melancholy so we left him to his element. After pressing on past five and going at least 3 mph, Sobo and I took a break at a random spot 2 miles from the trailhead. Both of us were exhausted and in need of town food (I wanted dark chocolate, mostly) and from the lack of breaks, I literally had steam coming off of my body when I stopped. We got up from our break and pressed on a little to find a red-head going southbound-- after an introduction, she told us she was named Trail Freckles, she was from Germany and she was trying to find a place to camp (preferably with us) because she was worried about "some creepy guy who was stalking her." We walked with her to the road and persuaded her to get a hotel room with us in Rangely after we worked out some plans at the IGA where we could cellphone service (and I ate 1600 calories of Mr. Goodbars, Dark Chocolate, Milk Chocolate and Krakel bars-- no worry, it only cost me 3.75). Sure enough, we got a hotel room for 50$ with Firefox, 70% and Hombre and only had to pay about 5$ a person (this was a great turn of events seeing as if any of us were alone, we would have experienced a freezing or expensive night). Happy Trout and Jungle Cat likely stayed in town last night as well though I'm not sure where.
We went to the pub and had a few beers, I enjoyed two local drinks that were very well-made and talked with Trail Freckles and the group until later on. We got back to the room and all passed out watching Comedy Central (some Daily Show, Colbert Report and South Park) and enjoyed some jokes about Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer and Dr. Pepper (the soda of choice for agnostics).
In the morning, I got up and had a shower and joined Freckles for orange juice at a diner, then moved on to have a muffin at a different diner when more people joined us and then poked around for a sleeping bag liner at the outfitter's (I found one that was silk, so I will live afterall). Sobo and I have been spending most of the day in town, just enjoying the sunshine, getting our shoes dry (muchly needed!) and taking it easy. I'll be with Silly Sobo up until about Stratton when he heads back to Lincoln to go South and then I'll be on my own again to finish-- just the way I'd like it to be at the very end of the journey. That said, Silly Sobo is getting one heck of a sendoff from me-- the guy has been a blast to hang out with and al good friend.
All of that said, I am getting introspective about the trail and what I'll do next. Several options have opened up-- one of which was last night at the bar when a random stranger asked me what I'd be up to when I finished (it seems to be the new question to be asked-- it used to be "where'd you start from?"). I confessed I had absolutely no idea so he told me about a job at Bryce Canyon park in Utah that I'd work 4 10-hour days with retail and reception work and then be free to spend three days a week hiking around the canyons-- that sounds absolutely delightful. I could live with my sister, live with my mom, live with my wife, live with my best friend, work at a hostel, work in a state park or do whatever the heck I want. But when people ask me from now on what's next, I'm going to look up at the sky and say:
"Oh, my salvation?"
And hopefully they'll say: "we'll see what we can do."
(I'm Not There)
I'm writing to you for my, most likely, second-to-last blog post of the trip. There's a lot I want to touch on and I think it's an excellent time to do it.
You may or may not know I'm not getting in quite as many miles as I'd like to be right now-- or that I feasibly should be. I would love to be hitting at least 18 miles a day right now for my trip-- I'd love to be pumping out miles and breaking speed just to make it to Katahdin but in reality, I don't really want my journey to end. I'm about 200 miles from the finish and after rushing so much, I have a real feeling in my heart that I'd like to take this moment to appreciate the difficulty, the ease, the overall spectrum of the trail before it's all over. I might never be cold enough to be hypothermic again in my life, I might never see the stars so clearly as I did last night (so beautiful, I could see the clouds of the milky way and more stars than I could really even imagine). There's so many things I feel like I missed out on now and it's so sad that my journey will soon be over. My last post will be in Monson, Maine before the 100-mile wilderness-- so that should be coming about a week from now.
At the Pine Ellis Lodge the other night, I enjoyed a bottle of private stock and some whisky with Silly Sobo. After getting mildly drunk, the manager of the place, David, who is a Mayan, offered to read our palms. He read mine and studied my life line and my love line and told me that I'd live a pretty long life, up to 85 years and that I'd have two wives and two children. It was also added that I wouldn't be poor but I wouldn't ever be rich
It was kind of disheartening because Silly Sobo's palm reading was so much more Kurt Cobaine: he would live a short life but he'd be rich, have many girlfriends but he'd have an alcoholism problem. It made mine feel like a life in a convent.
I have to question myself sometimes if I'm content with a simple life or if I want complication-- what is it we really want? I was told that at the end of the trail, the only way I'd finish anyways, is if I came to an answer for these questions. Maybe that's why I'm slowing down so much, the answers need to unfold gently, even with the chilly nights creeping in. I wonder often why I'm out here, why I'm doing this and what it's all about because I get so tangled up in reasons-- I need my answer or else I won't be able to finish. Also, how much trust can I take from a Mayan who charges 6$ for a shuttle?
We left Pine Ellis and encountered rain pretty early on-- Firefox and Silly Sobo and I hiked north and met a couple, Fudgie and Sancho and then later passed Baby Scrooge and another guy. We all made it in to the shelter after a very short day and took our spots in the 8-person shelter with Brightflower, lucky trout and jungle cat. Those that stayed that night were lucky as it was very windy (consistent 40mph) and rainy-- I imagine the people left out in their tents were pretty miserable (though they smoked pot the whole time, so maybe they had a great time-- I sure as hell had to waft it constantly and it grew a little tiresome). I took some Dayquil that I had purchased at the store early in the morning at a terrible price of 10$ but it wound up helping a lot-- I was able to focus on the book I had begun reading that I picked up at the hostel: "Sex, Drugs and Coco Puffs." It's a really interesting book on pop culture that explodes a bit like On The Road and reads in long sentences but it all made sense to me. It took about 70 pages and listening to everyone's conversations in the shelter before I was asleep for the night. I was quiet much of the time as I often am in groups, I like to just sit back and listen and watch and take it all in-- some call that a bad trait but I really don't mind-- it's not that I don't like people, I like to just sit and unwind to their ideas and voices.
We hiked on the next day with Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout to try to get to Rangely-- we made it to a stream and figured there would be a bridge to cross but it wound up being an unmarked ford. I tried out the water and it went up to my thighs-- it was rushing like crazy from the 3.5 inches of rain and as I got a quarter of the way across, I turned back and thought better of it. I didn't really want to wade through the water just to trip and fall and wind up miserable and cold for the rest of the day. Rangely was the main goal if nothing else-- we just wanted to get somewhere warm for the night because there was a freeze advisory. Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout took off with us up a dirt road that would hopefully have an alternative way of crossing the stream-- we hit a blue-blazed trail that took us over a bridge and right back onto the Highway we wanted to go on. It didn't take us far out of our way but we began doubting our ability to get to Rangely for the night so Sobo and I decided to motor and hit 3mph the rest of the hike for the day. It didn't work well-- the entire day was filled with deep puddles, areas of mud with broken pontoons (and the mud can be several feet deep, once Sobo fell in and went up to his calf), slick roots and oddly-angled rocks.
It was a long hike and we hit a swimming area that would have been peachy if I had only reached the spot a month earlier. Alas, with my stress fracture, it would have been impossible even if I had gone at top speed the whole time-- it's just gotten too cold to swim in such a lake. The fall foliage has really peaked after the last few frosts we've had-- the leaves went from being green a week ago to now tinges of brown, yellow and Chuck Berry red-- it made the lake setting almost ethereal.
We trudged on and on and on towards Rangely and came upon a shelter where a guy was laying inside. I recognized the voice right away-- it was Turtle Tracks who I had met in Waynesboro, Virginia-- he was flip-flopping and taking a lazy day to relax and snuggle up and get warm in his sleeping bag (rightly so, with the shelter being so close to a lake, I can't exactly blame him). He was in his normal mood of reflective melancholy so we left him to his element. After pressing on past five and going at least 3 mph, Sobo and I took a break at a random spot 2 miles from the trailhead. Both of us were exhausted and in need of town food (I wanted dark chocolate, mostly) and from the lack of breaks, I literally had steam coming off of my body when I stopped. We got up from our break and pressed on a little to find a red-head going southbound-- after an introduction, she told us she was named Trail Freckles, she was from Germany and she was trying to find a place to camp (preferably with us) because she was worried about "some creepy guy who was stalking her." We walked with her to the road and persuaded her to get a hotel room with us in Rangely after we worked out some plans at the IGA where we could cellphone service (and I ate 1600 calories of Mr. Goodbars, Dark Chocolate, Milk Chocolate and Krakel bars-- no worry, it only cost me 3.75). Sure enough, we got a hotel room for 50$ with Firefox, 70% and Hombre and only had to pay about 5$ a person (this was a great turn of events seeing as if any of us were alone, we would have experienced a freezing or expensive night). Happy Trout and Jungle Cat likely stayed in town last night as well though I'm not sure where.
We went to the pub and had a few beers, I enjoyed two local drinks that were very well-made and talked with Trail Freckles and the group until later on. We got back to the room and all passed out watching Comedy Central (some Daily Show, Colbert Report and South Park) and enjoyed some jokes about Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer and Dr. Pepper (the soda of choice for agnostics).
In the morning, I got up and had a shower and joined Freckles for orange juice at a diner, then moved on to have a muffin at a different diner when more people joined us and then poked around for a sleeping bag liner at the outfitter's (I found one that was silk, so I will live afterall). Sobo and I have been spending most of the day in town, just enjoying the sunshine, getting our shoes dry (muchly needed!) and taking it easy. I'll be with Silly Sobo up until about Stratton when he heads back to Lincoln to go South and then I'll be on my own again to finish-- just the way I'd like it to be at the very end of the journey. That said, Silly Sobo is getting one heck of a sendoff from me-- the guy has been a blast to hang out with and al good friend.
All of that said, I am getting introspective about the trail and what I'll do next. Several options have opened up-- one of which was last night at the bar when a random stranger asked me what I'd be up to when I finished (it seems to be the new question to be asked-- it used to be "where'd you start from?"). I confessed I had absolutely no idea so he told me about a job at Bryce Canyon park in Utah that I'd work 4 10-hour days with retail and reception work and then be free to spend three days a week hiking around the canyons-- that sounds absolutely delightful. I could live with my sister, live with my mom, live with my wife, live with my best friend, work at a hostel, work in a state park or do whatever the heck I want. But when people ask me from now on what's next, I'm going to look up at the sky and say:
"Oh, my salvation?"
And hopefully they'll say: "we'll see what we can do."
(I'm Not There)
Monday, September 17, 2012
Fly Me To The Moon/ 256.9 miles left
Hello hello!
I'm writing to you from Pine Ellis Lodge here in Andover, ME.
The last few weeks have been interesting and difficult. I entered the Whites soon after Hanover, which was by far my favorite town on the trail. There was a night I stayed after some slackpacking (which came to be because my package was waiting for me and interrupted by Labor Day) and wandered the streets of Hanover for a while looking for something to keep me occupied. I came upon a ukulele group who was practicing outside due to their normal location being shut for the day. What attracted me was that they were playing the song "The Boxer" which I remember from Bob Dylan's Self Portrait album. Everywhere I go on the trail, if there's some bobby, it's worth listening.
They played several songs and they played them quite well-- I was by far their most attentive audience member. Sitting on the Dock Of The Bay, House Of The Rising Sun, I'm Yours... so many beautiful bits. I couldn't help but feel overjoyed by it and sing along-- especially to "Don't Stop Believing."
I finished listening at around 9pm-- talked with a few of the people playing and they told me I should take up ukulele because it's simple and really fun-- I couldn't help but be hopeful at that moment. I wound up sleeping near the soccer field at Dartmouth college and woke up to rain. I walked on and took the bus into a nearby town to get gaiters and rain pants which I got for super cheap and also picked up my package. Soon after, I got a 40-mile ride to where I left off-- the base of Mt. Moosilauke-- I slept in the shelter that night and I was in The Whites.
I got up that morning to fog-- the day wasn't exactly cold but it wasn't perfectly warm either. I tried having my gaiters and rain gear on for the climb up but I wound up taking them off. I wasn't sure how to deal with climb-- it would be my first time above 4000 ft and it would be cold and windy but honestly, who wears all of that shit and sweats their ass off on the way up? One of the first things I noticed once we peaked alpine zone on Moosilauke, the air smelled really sweet. I had to laugh to myself and wonder if there were Dartmouth girls up there somewhere hiding. I soon found out there weren't, the top of Moosilauke was pretty much inhabitable.
The pine trees I was in got smaller and smaller until they were gone-- the top of the mountain was a massive, windy bald. When I went to put on my rain jacket, it took off in the air at light speed and blew into a tree. I had to climb some brush to get to the jacket and put it back on. There was a constant roar of static as the rain hit me and I rushed just to get down to the other side of Moosilauke. When I finally reached the shelter, I found the indications that the climb down would be terrible. I didn't get any pictures but it was as near vertical as it could get and there was rebar and wooden steps built into some of the rocks to hold on to. Some of the jumps and g-forced reminded me of Super Castlevania when you jump down from a platform but are perfectly OK. So it goes for a thru-hiker!
At the bottom of the hill there was trail magic that kept me busy for a while. I met up with a few nice folks like Stitches who were hosting it-- at the trail magic there was a SOBO named Piper that we both thought we knew from SOMEWHERE but couldn't quite figure it out (I got her e-mail anyways). I took off way too late for the next shelter, Eliza Brook, and made it there near dark where two gentlemen were pretty much sleeping. My feet were soaked, my gaiter had torn and I wasn't in the best spirits.
I woke up the next morning and just laid around for once while everyone got ready-- I found myself tired but relaxed so I talked with some of the folks at the shelter. One of the gentlemen, Sven, was section-hiking and offered to pay for my tent site at the next campsite, Liberty Springs. I told him I might just do that. I didn't, I hiked to Lincoln, New Hampshire which was a rough hike on it's own-- it took me up and over some difficult rock and around some stream crossings that were totally something I wasn't used to. When I finally arrived, I dried out my stuff by the side of the road-- a cop rolled by and saw my tent set up, my rain jacket in the trees and asked what I was up to.
"Just drying out!"
"Are you aware of Chett's place?"
"No, what's that?"
Chet's is a free hostel in Lincoln, New Hampshire-- I got a ride from the shuttle service there and to the super market and wound up staying. It was rather smelly there but at least I found out who had been staying there just the day before. I was catching up.
The next day was absolutely beautiful-- I got a shuttle to Franconia Ridge where I left off, unaware the type of day I'd have.
Mountain on the drive.
Franconia ridge was a climb but I didn't feel it.
I had the most beautiful day up on the mountains and I couldn't believe this place existed in the US-- it was my favorite spot on the trail so far.
I went on past Galehead Hut to camp for the night and had a pretty shitty stealth site in the woods. It was foggy that night and then it was cold in the morning. I pushed through the day and did some crazy climbing-- once even DOWN A STREAM (Moosilauke was next to a waterfall, so I guess this wasn't so bad). I pushed on to Mizpah hut that night and we had a terrible storm while I was hiking on Webster Cliffs. Yes, my dumb ass was hiking on cliffs while it rained hell on me. When I got over the cliffs, I was met with roaring streams coming over the rocks at me, blocking any white blazes and leaving me to feel my way along. It was dumb, there were no stealth sites but I knew I should push to Mizpah.
And I finally rolled into there and it was the best feeling in the world. I was warm, I got up to the library where all the other thru-hiker's were at and met up with 70%, Firefox, Short-term, Eva, Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout-- people that I've been hovering around on my hike since then and I'm very glad to be doing so.
The next day, over Mt. Washington to Madison Springs Hut just requires the pictures. It was like walking on the moon and encountering an unknown beauty. There were no white blazes, we were guided by cairns that really weren't all that reliable (some spots, they just weren't well-marked and I was going on a prayer).
Views back to Washington and a "chaos blaze" as we hiked down a ski slope for fun as we south-bounded Wildcat Ridge. Enjoyed it so so much.
Afterwards, we headed on to a hotel, went on to hike some more together and have been enjoying it since.
Maine though... Maine....
Upon reaching the Maine border, we automatically hit the rough stuff. Real rock climbing, sheet rock you walk straight up the side of and winds and cold. It's going to make this finish quite a finish-- let's hope I make it!
I'm writing to you from Pine Ellis Lodge here in Andover, ME.
The last few weeks have been interesting and difficult. I entered the Whites soon after Hanover, which was by far my favorite town on the trail. There was a night I stayed after some slackpacking (which came to be because my package was waiting for me and interrupted by Labor Day) and wandered the streets of Hanover for a while looking for something to keep me occupied. I came upon a ukulele group who was practicing outside due to their normal location being shut for the day. What attracted me was that they were playing the song "The Boxer" which I remember from Bob Dylan's Self Portrait album. Everywhere I go on the trail, if there's some bobby, it's worth listening.
They played several songs and they played them quite well-- I was by far their most attentive audience member. Sitting on the Dock Of The Bay, House Of The Rising Sun, I'm Yours... so many beautiful bits. I couldn't help but feel overjoyed by it and sing along-- especially to "Don't Stop Believing."
I finished listening at around 9pm-- talked with a few of the people playing and they told me I should take up ukulele because it's simple and really fun-- I couldn't help but be hopeful at that moment. I wound up sleeping near the soccer field at Dartmouth college and woke up to rain. I walked on and took the bus into a nearby town to get gaiters and rain pants which I got for super cheap and also picked up my package. Soon after, I got a 40-mile ride to where I left off-- the base of Mt. Moosilauke-- I slept in the shelter that night and I was in The Whites.
I got up that morning to fog-- the day wasn't exactly cold but it wasn't perfectly warm either. I tried having my gaiters and rain gear on for the climb up but I wound up taking them off. I wasn't sure how to deal with climb-- it would be my first time above 4000 ft and it would be cold and windy but honestly, who wears all of that shit and sweats their ass off on the way up? One of the first things I noticed once we peaked alpine zone on Moosilauke, the air smelled really sweet. I had to laugh to myself and wonder if there were Dartmouth girls up there somewhere hiding. I soon found out there weren't, the top of Moosilauke was pretty much inhabitable.
The pine trees I was in got smaller and smaller until they were gone-- the top of the mountain was a massive, windy bald. When I went to put on my rain jacket, it took off in the air at light speed and blew into a tree. I had to climb some brush to get to the jacket and put it back on. There was a constant roar of static as the rain hit me and I rushed just to get down to the other side of Moosilauke. When I finally reached the shelter, I found the indications that the climb down would be terrible. I didn't get any pictures but it was as near vertical as it could get and there was rebar and wooden steps built into some of the rocks to hold on to. Some of the jumps and g-forced reminded me of Super Castlevania when you jump down from a platform but are perfectly OK. So it goes for a thru-hiker!
At the bottom of the hill there was trail magic that kept me busy for a while. I met up with a few nice folks like Stitches who were hosting it-- at the trail magic there was a SOBO named Piper that we both thought we knew from SOMEWHERE but couldn't quite figure it out (I got her e-mail anyways). I took off way too late for the next shelter, Eliza Brook, and made it there near dark where two gentlemen were pretty much sleeping. My feet were soaked, my gaiter had torn and I wasn't in the best spirits.
I woke up the next morning and just laid around for once while everyone got ready-- I found myself tired but relaxed so I talked with some of the folks at the shelter. One of the gentlemen, Sven, was section-hiking and offered to pay for my tent site at the next campsite, Liberty Springs. I told him I might just do that. I didn't, I hiked to Lincoln, New Hampshire which was a rough hike on it's own-- it took me up and over some difficult rock and around some stream crossings that were totally something I wasn't used to. When I finally arrived, I dried out my stuff by the side of the road-- a cop rolled by and saw my tent set up, my rain jacket in the trees and asked what I was up to.
"Just drying out!"
"Are you aware of Chett's place?"
"No, what's that?"
Chet's is a free hostel in Lincoln, New Hampshire-- I got a ride from the shuttle service there and to the super market and wound up staying. It was rather smelly there but at least I found out who had been staying there just the day before. I was catching up.
The next day was absolutely beautiful-- I got a shuttle to Franconia Ridge where I left off, unaware the type of day I'd have.
Franconia ridge was a climb but I didn't feel it.
I had the most beautiful day up on the mountains and I couldn't believe this place existed in the US-- it was my favorite spot on the trail so far.
I went on past Galehead Hut to camp for the night and had a pretty shitty stealth site in the woods. It was foggy that night and then it was cold in the morning. I pushed through the day and did some crazy climbing-- once even DOWN A STREAM (Moosilauke was next to a waterfall, so I guess this wasn't so bad). I pushed on to Mizpah hut that night and we had a terrible storm while I was hiking on Webster Cliffs. Yes, my dumb ass was hiking on cliffs while it rained hell on me. When I got over the cliffs, I was met with roaring streams coming over the rocks at me, blocking any white blazes and leaving me to feel my way along. It was dumb, there were no stealth sites but I knew I should push to Mizpah.
And I finally rolled into there and it was the best feeling in the world. I was warm, I got up to the library where all the other thru-hiker's were at and met up with 70%, Firefox, Short-term, Eva, Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout-- people that I've been hovering around on my hike since then and I'm very glad to be doing so.
The next day, over Mt. Washington to Madison Springs Hut just requires the pictures. It was like walking on the moon and encountering an unknown beauty. There were no white blazes, we were guided by cairns that really weren't all that reliable (some spots, they just weren't well-marked and I was going on a prayer).
Views back to Washington and a "chaos blaze" as we hiked down a ski slope for fun as we south-bounded Wildcat Ridge. Enjoyed it so so much.
Afterwards, we headed on to a hotel, went on to hike some more together and have been enjoying it since.
Maine though... Maine....
Upon reaching the Maine border, we automatically hit the rough stuff. Real rock climbing, sheet rock you walk straight up the side of and winds and cold. It's going to make this finish quite a finish-- let's hope I make it!
Monday, September 3, 2012
Go Get Her, Tiger
Hey guys!
Greetings from Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire-- I made it up here yesterday actually pulling a very easy 15 to make it into town. I'm zeroing today... kind of (more on that later) because my package is being delayed due to the post office being closed on Labor Day. Seriously, that should be changed-- you should WORK on labor day. Nobody knows the meaning of labor anymore, sheesh.
The last few days have been a blur-- I crested several tough mountains getting back onto the trail and getting into Massachusetts. Mt. Everett and Bear Mountain lived up to their names-- rocky and tough on my feet. I started to realized climbing Bear Mountain that boots might be a good alternative. This is a big adjustment for me, a few months ago I would probably have put boots in the same category of likelihoods as me voting Republican. I got up and over the slick rock of Bear Mountain, saw the beautiful highest peak of Connecticut (it's a tower of rocks that offered a great sunset) and climbed down a real bitch of a descent that left me feeling like G-forces were hitting my ankles when I hopped down. The glacial rock was just everywhere. Soon after, I hit a long-running brook that looked like something out of a movie-- there were waterfalls, caves the brook twisted through, it was all so very magnificent.
I hit Race mountain and decided to camp for the night-- ahead promised some panoramic views and I was in the mood for a good sunrise. I camped under an old pine tree and had spiders crawling over every inch of my tent during the night. Luckily, not a single one got inside during the night. I finished my fourth Game Of Thrones book and shut off my headlamp-- what else was there to do after that? I woke up in the middle of the night, studied my destination and went back to sleep.
The morning was beautiful
The cliff walk along the sunrise was breath-taking-- there was zero wind, just wavy, soft clouds that made me feel I could walk across them and reach some distant shore.
The way up Mt. Everett was terrible. "Why are you doing this to me, Massachusetts?" I thought. Going down I hit a recreation area with plenty of water and time to relax but my feet were aching. "new shoes" is all I could think of.
The next few days blurred together well enough, there was pie, though-- lots of pie.
I went to the bird cage hostel in Dalton and had a beautiful experience. My first night there, I met one northbounder and several southbounders who were staying a second night-- one of the Sobo's was a fellow named MacDaddy who came onto the trail weighing over 400 lbs and was doing the trail, little at a time to get into shape. There was a young kid named Spider Monkey going sobo and an asian nobo with a dog. Rob Bird was kind enough to take us all in and make the place feel just like home. The second night I stayed, I had the place alone with Rob to just talk the whole day-- we went to Eastern Mountain Sports where I bought some hiking sandals, went to Pizza Hut for Hawaiin pizza, watched Teen Nick (lol) and simply chatted. Rob is a phenomenal guy, he has the same manners and kindness as my dad and he is a real joy to be around.
We wound up talking about my dad quite a bit-- I have no secrets to hold about why I'm doing the trail and it's very much been because I miss my dad and I have a hole in my life that needs repaired. I haven't been on the best path in life, I've made a great deal of mistakes and learned from them but I still have to acknowledge I made them. Rob and I talked about the last few things I said to my dad, how I wished I could have seen him again and he was there for me like my dad would have been-- he just listened, offered his own experiences and gave me the best advice in the world: "focus on the good things, the beautiful memories you've had and you're going to turn out to be a well-rounded young man."
Thanks, Rob! :)
Also, I got a mohawk.
And those sandals? Didn't work out, I had to return them to EMS and get boots.
Still not voting Republican though.
At the end of Mass. and getting into Vermont, I hit the long trail-- it was a beautiful experience to know I'd only have three states left and that I'd be getting into the beautiful country. Vermont offered some of the most breath-taking views of the trail yet-- the entire bit reminded me of the Smokies but it got cold very quick. I had a few nights where I was wearing all of my summer clothes and still just didn't feel warm enough.
I met Hot Sauce and Sweaty Cheddar-- a beautiful couple out hiking the trail who were friendly, sweet and funny. I soon found myself back in the NOBO bubble with many folks who got mohawks from the bird cage and others who were just taking their time and enjoying themselves. I passed Desperado and Micro and they're at least 3-4 days behind me now as I hit a breakneck pace in boots. I found I picked up the miles quickly-- before I could go maybe 2.5 miles an hour at tops, now I'm hitting 3 without even trying. At all of this comes an expense, my legs are quite tired and I have some soreness in the front of my shin-- I don't care what it is, it will wear off eventually when I'm used to boots.
Beautiful trail going uphill- my new favorite trees- the white birches.
A Vermont view-- these do not disappoint.
Sunshine on my mind
Up ahead I hit the toughest part of the trail-- The Whites, the Mahoosucs in Maine and then the finish, Katahdin-- I have less than 500 miles to go now and the end is getting here. I'm expecting snow in the Whites (many Sobo's told me at night it snowed) and really tough climbing but I was made for it. ;)
Good luck and much love <3
Greetings from Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire-- I made it up here yesterday actually pulling a very easy 15 to make it into town. I'm zeroing today... kind of (more on that later) because my package is being delayed due to the post office being closed on Labor Day. Seriously, that should be changed-- you should WORK on labor day. Nobody knows the meaning of labor anymore, sheesh.
The last few days have been a blur-- I crested several tough mountains getting back onto the trail and getting into Massachusetts. Mt. Everett and Bear Mountain lived up to their names-- rocky and tough on my feet. I started to realized climbing Bear Mountain that boots might be a good alternative. This is a big adjustment for me, a few months ago I would probably have put boots in the same category of likelihoods as me voting Republican. I got up and over the slick rock of Bear Mountain, saw the beautiful highest peak of Connecticut (it's a tower of rocks that offered a great sunset) and climbed down a real bitch of a descent that left me feeling like G-forces were hitting my ankles when I hopped down. The glacial rock was just everywhere. Soon after, I hit a long-running brook that looked like something out of a movie-- there were waterfalls, caves the brook twisted through, it was all so very magnificent.
I hit Race mountain and decided to camp for the night-- ahead promised some panoramic views and I was in the mood for a good sunrise. I camped under an old pine tree and had spiders crawling over every inch of my tent during the night. Luckily, not a single one got inside during the night. I finished my fourth Game Of Thrones book and shut off my headlamp-- what else was there to do after that? I woke up in the middle of the night, studied my destination and went back to sleep.
The morning was beautiful
The cliff walk along the sunrise was breath-taking-- there was zero wind, just wavy, soft clouds that made me feel I could walk across them and reach some distant shore.
The way up Mt. Everett was terrible. "Why are you doing this to me, Massachusetts?" I thought. Going down I hit a recreation area with plenty of water and time to relax but my feet were aching. "new shoes" is all I could think of.
I went to the bird cage hostel in Dalton and had a beautiful experience. My first night there, I met one northbounder and several southbounders who were staying a second night-- one of the Sobo's was a fellow named MacDaddy who came onto the trail weighing over 400 lbs and was doing the trail, little at a time to get into shape. There was a young kid named Spider Monkey going sobo and an asian nobo with a dog. Rob Bird was kind enough to take us all in and make the place feel just like home. The second night I stayed, I had the place alone with Rob to just talk the whole day-- we went to Eastern Mountain Sports where I bought some hiking sandals, went to Pizza Hut for Hawaiin pizza, watched Teen Nick (lol) and simply chatted. Rob is a phenomenal guy, he has the same manners and kindness as my dad and he is a real joy to be around.
We wound up talking about my dad quite a bit-- I have no secrets to hold about why I'm doing the trail and it's very much been because I miss my dad and I have a hole in my life that needs repaired. I haven't been on the best path in life, I've made a great deal of mistakes and learned from them but I still have to acknowledge I made them. Rob and I talked about the last few things I said to my dad, how I wished I could have seen him again and he was there for me like my dad would have been-- he just listened, offered his own experiences and gave me the best advice in the world: "focus on the good things, the beautiful memories you've had and you're going to turn out to be a well-rounded young man."
Thanks, Rob! :)
Also, I got a mohawk.
And those sandals? Didn't work out, I had to return them to EMS and get boots.
At the end of Mass. and getting into Vermont, I hit the long trail-- it was a beautiful experience to know I'd only have three states left and that I'd be getting into the beautiful country. Vermont offered some of the most breath-taking views of the trail yet-- the entire bit reminded me of the Smokies but it got cold very quick. I had a few nights where I was wearing all of my summer clothes and still just didn't feel warm enough.
I met Hot Sauce and Sweaty Cheddar-- a beautiful couple out hiking the trail who were friendly, sweet and funny. I soon found myself back in the NOBO bubble with many folks who got mohawks from the bird cage and others who were just taking their time and enjoying themselves. I passed Desperado and Micro and they're at least 3-4 days behind me now as I hit a breakneck pace in boots. I found I picked up the miles quickly-- before I could go maybe 2.5 miles an hour at tops, now I'm hitting 3 without even trying. At all of this comes an expense, my legs are quite tired and I have some soreness in the front of my shin-- I don't care what it is, it will wear off eventually when I'm used to boots.
A Vermont view-- these do not disappoint.
Up ahead I hit the toughest part of the trail-- The Whites, the Mahoosucs in Maine and then the finish, Katahdin-- I have less than 500 miles to go now and the end is getting here. I'm expecting snow in the Whites (many Sobo's told me at night it snowed) and really tough climbing but I was made for it. ;)
Good luck and much love <3
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